


Somewhere Only We Know

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Episode Tag, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Emily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mickey comes out, he and Ian talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know guys/gals. I don't even know
> 
> Thanks for reading.

The abandon building had originally been where Joey, Mickey, and Mandy used to escape to when Terry would return home so drunk he’d start hitting whichever kid happened to be within his reach. Usually it’d be Mickey or Joey (Jamie and Tony had been very good at disappearing when they heard Terry’s stumbling footsteps). Mandy managed to never get hit, mostly because Mickey would shove her under his bed despite her protests that she didn’t _need_ to be protected. After Terry passed out, Mickey would bundle Mandy up in her jacket and he and Joey would take her to that building.

As they grew older, and Joey became less protective of his siblings, more like Tony and Jamie, and Mandy started hiding out at their aunt’s place, the building just became a very distant memory. Mickey would visit occasionally, usually to shoot his guns or drink, but it really didn’t have any other purpose for the Milkoviches until Ian came along.

It’d been about a week after Mickey’s second release from juvie. Terry seemed to be home more often than not, along with Tony and Joey, and Mickey suggested the abandon building. Ian had been a bit reluctant, mentioning something about Fiona telling him to stay away from that part of town, but he finally agreed.

It'd become a bit like their safe haven after that, both knowing exactly where to find the other if their usual haunts were a bust, but everything good in Mickey’s life eventually went to shit, and the abandon building became poison to him when he beat up Ian.

He hadn’t been back to the building since that night, but he could still hear Ian’s words echoing over and over in his head. “ _You love me and you’re gay. Just admit it.”_

He had admitted one, in front of his father, his entire fucking family, the patrons at The Alibi, and the whores who he employed. It probably wasn't what Ian meant, but what the fuck right? Go big or go home, or some shit like that.

Mickey stumbled over his own feet, Ian catching him and gently pulling his arm around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Mickey’s waist. The older boy’s head pounded, his jaw ached like a mother fucker, and he couldn’t feel the knuckles in his right hand. He tried really hard not to lean into the younger boy, but that was becoming more difficult with each step.

“You gonna be okay?” Ian asked curiously, not even remotely bothered that Mickey seemed to be leaning most of his weight into him.

“I’ll be fine,” Mickey replied stubbornly, trying and failing to straighten up. He felt a little dizzy, a wave of nausea rolling through him, and he just wanted to lie down and sleep for a week.

“Hey, how about we sit down,” Ian suggested, sounding as if he were talking to a small child, and Mickey grunted in reply. He felt himself get lowered onto a set of cold, stone steps, a warm hand pushing his head forward. “Breathe through it, Mick, you’ll be fine.”

“‘m fine,” Mickey grumbled, but he still drew in a deep breath. He took another breath, feeling his nausea and dizziness subsiding, and slowly lifted his head. Ian’s hand still rested in his hair, and Mickey made no move to push it away. Instead he hunched forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees, and looked at the ground.

The two boys were quiet for a moment, the only noise their intermingled breathing and Ian moving so he could sit next to Mickey. The older boy felt fingers gently stroke his hair, and Ian quietly said, “You didn’t have to do that tonight, Mick.”

Mickey sniffed, tasting blood in the back of his throat, and muttered, “You were leaving. I…” he trailed off, clenching his hands into fists, pain radiating from his right hand. “You were leaving,” he repeated a little louder, shrugging.

“Terry could have killed you,” Ian commented still gently stroking Mickey’s hair.

“It’d’ve been worth it.”

“No,” Ian whispered kissing the side of Mickey’s head, “it wouldn’t have.”

They sat together in silence for a long while afterward, Ian’s fingers still running through the older boy’s hair, but eventually the cold started to get to them. Mickey, already half asleep, slumped against Ian, startled awake when the younger boy nudged him.

“Ready to go home?” Ian asked getting to his feet, offering Mickey a hand.

“Whose?” Mickey asked, accepting the help.

“Does it really matter?” Ian pulled the smaller boy to his feet, tangling their fingers together instead of letting him go.

For a brief few seconds, Mickey studied their joined hands, knowing had Ian tried this a few weeks ago, he probably would have freaked out. A lot could change in such a short period of time.

As they walked away, Mickey noticed the familiar buildings on either side of them, his eyes settling on a certain spot, Ian’s voice echoing in his head, “ _You love me and you’re gay. Just admit it.”_

One out of two wasn’t too bad. And maybe, someday, when Mickey could actually sit down and sort through all his crap, he could admit the second one, too.


End file.
